


Honest Hearts

by wolfandi



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Changing Tenses, Denial, F/M, Heartache, Heartbreak, Melancholy, Non-Canon Relationship, Regret, Romance, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-13
Updated: 2018-02-15
Packaged: 2018-08-08 10:15:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7753747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfandi/pseuds/wolfandi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>--------------------------------</p><p>Solas struggles with his growing fondness of Inquisitor Arienne Trevelyan.</p><p>--------------------------------<br/> </p><p>[Chapter 7 preview:</p><p>In the blink of an eye he was in another world. It was seamless like always, the transition into the Fade. Things felt different there. It could best be described as weightless, as if the energy surrounding you helped to carry your body with each step. It made things effortless. Like being submerged; this floating sensation, heavy yet empty, and it could take you anywhere.</p><p>At first his environment was simple. A vast plain as far as his eyes could see, clear sky with a light breeze. It felt like Arienne's soft breath as she blew to remove the eyelash from his cheek. Now he's laughing as he remembers her huffing in frustration when the small hair refused to be moved... </p><p>......]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lonely Hands

  _[“I bit my tongue in the arc of conversation._ _I met you once and I've fallen for your notion.  
__Do you believe that there's treasures in the ocean?”]_

  
He remembered Haven when she lay unconscious on the cot. Her left hand, marked from the orb, _his_ orb, pulsating as she breathed laboriously. Her right wrist limp in his grasp as he felt for a pulse. Barely there, barely hanging on. He had little hope for her survival, but still some remained. Cassandra towered over him from behind, shouting threats that fell on deaf ears as he looked over the human girl before him. He knew the Seeker was stressed, frantic as the loss of the Divine was fresh and weighed heavily on her.

He remembered planning his escape. There was nothing more he could do for the girl, nothing more than what he had already done. If she died it would be his fault, and while he took no pleasure in that, she would only be the first of many casualties to fall because of his plans. He tells himself that if she doesn't wake the next day, he will have to leave hastily and discreetly lest he catch the unyielding wrath of Cassandra.

He remembered the whispers, the gossiping of Haven's people about the girl finally waking. All negative. All blaming her for the chaos at the Conclave and the hole in the sky. Some cracked jokes about what sort of punishment they wished she'd face. They knew so little. And as the tingling crispness of her frost spell shot past him and froze the demon that had him cornered, he knew _something_ was different about her. Only time would tell what that something was.

He remembered the look in her eyes as the grief stricken elven villager took her in his arms tightly, profusely thanking her for delivering flowers to his lost beloved. The tremble in her voice as she told the herbalist that no refugee would dare to call her knife-ear, but instead be gracious for her assistance. She was kinder than he would have thought, being that she was human. Her humble nature made him wonder at times if he had misjudged them.

He remembered all this and more as he watched her in Skyhold's great hall. Her robes were a green silk with gold embroidery, the attire many mages wore in the Circle Towers. Ebony wavy tresses bouncing lightly as she laughed, one hand covering her mouth as the other gripped Varric's shoulder. She hadn't done that very often. Mostly she was quiet, which wasn't surprising considering recent events. Now that they were in Skyhold she seemed to relax, her composure less tense. She seemed comfortable.

He was always watching her. Purely because she bore the mark, he tells himself. It was necessary to get to know her. They needed each other, he'd repeat to himself. He needed her to stop Corypheus. To take back what was his. She needed him for his knowledge, for his skill. After all, were it not for him they wouldn't have Skyhold. That's all it was. An arrangement that benefited them both. He would never outwardly admit to this growing fondness, not even when he lost himself in her emerald eyes.

"They're _too_ green," she said with a stifled laugh, poking at the campfire while Cassandra and Varric slept. "I've always been a sucker for blue or grey eyes." Innocently she smiles at him, pulling the quilt over her shoulders. "I heard someone in Haven say, as I was walking past them, that I was frightening. _Those eyes. Green like the Breach. She must be a demon_."

"I imagine that bothered you. It was an insensitive thing to say." He too pulls a quilt around himself, gazing up at the stars.

"It was, you're right. But I can't be too sore. With everything that happened, I don't blame whoever it was. I thought about it a lot in Haven. It's interesting how one bad comment can stick to you like that, even if buried under compliments. It's still there. Mostly now all I do is wonder if that person is alive."

He wondered, as he watched her look up at the long plum tinged drapery in the great hall, if she still thought about it. If she still looked from face to face and quietly questioned, _was it you_? His thoughts halt and he pauses as she turns. It's unintentional, but his gaze immediately goes to her lips; a subconscious action he always scolds himself over.

She's smiling as she walks and it makes him unknowingly do the same. Stopping just a couple feet away, hands cupped behind her back, a stance she often took near him. "Good morning _Solas_ ," voice light as her head cocked to the side. "Did you sleep well?"

"I did. And you, Inquisitor?" A hand within the other behind his back, and it's in that moment he realizes she's mimicking _this_ posture which he typically stands in.

"I wish you'd call me by name. I don't care for titles," she pouts playfully.

"My apologies, _Arienne_." Her expression is all too pleased when he says it.

She's different, truly. More than he ever expected. More than he can wrap his head around or put into words. She challenged him, made him question things he thought he certainly knew. And she actually cared. Flooded him with questions, ever curious and open minded.

He didn't intend for this to happen, and Arienne seemed a little unsure of it herself. But too many times had her hand grazed against his, lingering _just_ long enough to make it more than accidental. He never encouraged it per se, but his hand also never withdrew.

"See, that wasn't so hard, was it?" Though her robes met the floor it was obvious she stood tip toed, straining to reach his level. _She's small for a human_ , he thinks.

The Iron Bull made a comment a few days prior, as he frequently had the compulsion to do, about Arienne always bringing him on their journeys. " _You must be tired, Solas_ ," he said with a smirk. And when he inquired further Bull simply responded with, " _Boss just seems to like having you around, is all_." He wasn't going to address it. Harmless and hollow flirtation is all it was, if anything. Then the Exalted Plains, what happened after...

Privately in the rotunda he told her of his friend, a spirit of wisdom, who was summoned and held against her will. He could barely finish the sentence before she was turning, insisting they leave that moment and save her. When they arrived to see her bound, twisted into a pride demon due to the ignorance of a group of traveling mages, his body filled with rage. They weren't fast enough. He lost his friend, and could think of nothing other than to make those responsible suffer. But Arienne stopped him, grabbing his arm as he moved toward the terrified mages. _They didn't know_ , she pleaded and reluctantly he allowed them to leave.

He needed time alone after. And when he finally returned she embraced him tenderly. Hers was the first face he saw when he entered Skyhold's walls. _You came back. Where did you go? I was worried_. He felt something in her arms. More than friendly, just shy of intimate. And as she came down from the embrace her lips brushed his cheeks so softly he couldn't be certain if they were actually there. _You don't have to do this alone, Solas_.

Humans had done so much to the elven people. Then again, so had he. He used the suffering and abuse humans inflicted upon elves as an excuse to deny what... _This_ was. Or maybe it was because he knew it was fruitless, a fleeting thing. But she was different. Could he really allow himself the comfort of her touch knowing what was on the horizon? It would be kinder in the long run if he simply continued to tell himself it was nothing.

Then she hooked her arm in his, which was more forward than she had dared to be before. "I want to show you something," her words barely above a whisper. The action took him by surprise. He should have withdrew, but instead he relaxed against her touch as she lead him to her quarters.

 

 


	2. Small Things

_[ “If there’s one thing that I’ve noticedout of all the things I’ve seen,_   _it’s that you can leave a footprint in a place you’ve never been.  
_ _There’s barely time to look around before you have to leave, a_ _nd a mark upon the skin is not enough to make you bleed.”]_

 

Uncertainty is all he feels as she roots through desk drawers. He's in her bed chambers, noticing how her quilts still lay messily from last nights rest; the smell of a recently blown out candle filling the room. There's a book half open on her nightstand, _'I enjoy reading, but I usually only do it when I'm lonely,'_ he recalls her saying one evening as she looked over the texts on his table. Picking one up with a furrowed brow while flipping through the pages, _'Elven is such a beautiful language, I wish I could read it.’_ Then she sat it down and her hand ghosted over a few more, _'You have so many books. Are you lonely?'_ It was intended innocently, but still he swallows hard at the thought, wondering to himself if she had been lonely the night prior. Suddenly it feels like he's trespassing. 

"There you are," she's talking to herself, grabbing the item and closing the drawer. "Look," she holds out a vial and it only takes him a glance to realize what it is.

"A phylactery." She nods, looking down at it in her hands. "Yours?" She nods again. "Might I ask how you obtained it?"

"Not all Templars are cruel, Solas." He's too fixated on the light freckles dusting her cheeks to notice the item has been placed in his hand. "It's strange. Most I know would smash it the second they were able. I just... I don't feel like I can."

"This is your leash. You should want it destroyed." His grip tightens around the vial. This item, though small in size, represented so much of what was wrong with this world. Another product of his mistake. ”Why give it to me?” 

"We're... _friends_ ," there's something in her voice, something like doubt but not quite. "I trust you," that however, she spoke confidently. 

"What would you have me do?"

"I'd rather not know, truthfully. When I was younger I thought if I was submissive it would make others trust me. Then as I got older I realized no matter how docile I behaved, there would always be those who never would. I started to notice more and more the hesitance, and sometimes fear when I would go to shake someone's hand. As if being a Mage meant I had no control and to touch me would burn. That leash started to feel real, then." She's eyeing it in his grasp, and she's obviously thinking of a _particular_ instance, but he doesn't ask. "I thought smashing it would bring me freedom. When really, doing that wouldn't change anything. People will always be afraid. I don’t blame them, truly. Both sides have fault. But trust is earned, not given, and too many before me have spoiled things. I have to be better.”

He wants to say so much. Wants to tell her of when magic was as natural as breathing. When her abilities were commonplace, and her skills would be encouraged not squandered. Sure, he could tell her snippets and pass it off as memories from the Fade. And she would smile, like she always did, with wide eyes as her curiosity begged for more. _'Tell me about ancient ruins, and spirits, and memories. I'd give anything to see it for myself,'_ she had said while looking out at the horizon, closing her eyes and envisioning herself in his stories. But his heart sank as she pulled her hair over one shoulder, exposing a rounded ear. _His_ world was not hers, and she would never be able to know it. 

"I-" he would have said more than that stutter but now she's close, a deep inhale and they’d be touching. So he holds his breath to keep still, mentally chiding himself over this foolishness. _Just step back,_ he keeps thinking. 

"Could I..." She's avoiding eye contact, which isn't typical of her. _'I was taught that not looking someone in the eyes when addressing them is a sign of disrespect. Or deceit,'_ she told him when in Haven. ‘ _You’re not looking at mine,’_ he responded as she drew shapes in the snow with the tip of her foot. _‘Being nervous should be added to that. What do I say to the man who saved my life?’_ Her eyes were locked with his then, and he felt a shift when she said it; something in him was changing.

Barely she steps back and now he can breathe again. "I don't know why, I guess this place is just so big, maybe," she’s anxious, he can hear it distinctly in her voice. "I felt really lonely last night. And I found myself thinking of... Sometimes a room just _feels_ familiar. Like a person you knew once, or still do. Maybe it's this place. I don't know what I'm saying." 

"Whom did you find yourself thinking of?” His mouth spoke before he could tighten his lips together to keep it at a thought. 

She doesn’t respond, at least not in words. Even without looking he knows she's smiling, and with that he has his answer. Cautious fingers reach up, fidgeting with the jawbone pendant hanging around his neck. Its apparent what will happen if he looks down at her, so he tries to keep eye contact with the wall in front of him, posture stiffening. A light tug on the leather straps breaks his focus, and almost instantly his eyes meet hers. He falters. She stands on tip toes, gripping his tunic for balance. He leans in. 

"Inquisitor?" A familiar Antivan voice calls. 

Quickly they separate, leaving him feeling a mixture both disappointed and appreciative for the interruption. 

"Yes, Josephine? Did you need me for something?" It's the first time he's heard her force sincerity; clearly she's disappointed as well.

"Leliana is insisting on sending assassins for the marquis and you simply cannot allow it. This matter must be handled delicately. A little gold in a few pockets and no blood need be shed. _Please._ Reason with her," the diplomat scribbled away, failing to notice the situation at hand. 

Arienne turns to him, "Excuse me." Her tone is courteous and carrying the tiniest trace of frustration. She exits with Josephine and he follows them out to head for the rotunda. 

He tries to keep a busy mind but the fresco is unable to fully hold his attention. Each color mixed only reminds him of her, all for different reasons. _Rose_ for her cheeks as the cold bit at her flesh while she reached out to steady herself against him up the steep hills of Emprise du Lion. _Honeydew_ and _plum_ for the crown of flowers she delicately twisted around Bull’s horns as he slept; the one he didn’t discover until two days later when her giggling finally turned into a confession. _Teal,_ then _olive_ for the two sets of robes she and Vivienne had _politely_ bickered over in regards to which would fit Arienne’s fair complexion better. _Peach_ for the small stuffed nug she had sewn for Cole and placed in the corner of his spot in the top floor of the tavern. 

“So, _my elven friend,_ how did your little _private meeting_ with the Inquisitor go?”

Dorian is leaned over the rail in the library overlooking, chin in palm with a pompous grin and narrowed eyes. 

“I’m not certain as to what you’re referring.”

The Tevinter scoffs ‘ _oh please,’_ before speaking, “You know the one. It was when the two of you walked off arm-in-arm to her chambers. I know you’re old but surely you can remember events that took place just this evening.”

Responding would only encourage his behavior, so he opts to keep quiet and focus on his work. His gaze turns to the phylactery on his desk; it would be easier in the long run to tell himself he had detected a hint of wine on her breath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So my timeline doesn't seem weird, I just want to state that I always do EVERYTHING in the game before completing the main story. I had around 60 hours logged before I even left Haven. Once at Skyhold I completed pretty much every area before going to Halamshiral and finishing out the main plot. So, I like to think this is happening. I feel like it gives them more time to get to know each other before the big stuff happens. 
> 
> I'm excited to write the events that will take place at Halamshiral, soon :]
> 
> Hope you all like it!


	3. Hiding My Heart

_[I wish I could lay down beside you when the day is done.  
__And wake up to your face against the morning sun.  
__But like everything I've ever known, you’ll disappear one day.  
__So I'll spend my whole life hiding my heart away._ ]

She was shivering, but trying to hide it. Shoulders raised as chilled palms rubbed at her arms, "As if this even does much in the way of warmth." She's looking up at the stars in this, _we are immeasurably small_ sort of way, and he finds it humbling. "I used to count them." Her brows raised as eyes remained fixated on the boundless sky.  


He smirks, “And how far did you get?"  
  
The comment earns a small laugh, which she of course covers with a loose hand. She hid her smile often, and he always wished she wouldn't. On occasion she would lose herself in comfort or joy and smile vibrantly; each time it left an irreplaceable impression. He thought about the girl in the Emerald Graves earlier that day who had been captured by the Freemen. She shivered in that dark and damp cell with jagged veridium protruding from its walls in clusters; the relief on her face was unforgettable as they unlocked the gate to her and the others. Arienne dropped to her knees, held the girls face in her hands as she whimpered in defeat. But Arienne just smiled this wide, genuine, caring smile, _‘You’re safe,_ ’ she whispered. Then the girl laughed as if the worlds creator had reached down from the sky and was holding her proclaiming, _‘I am not yet done with you.’_  
  
"I used to find the brightest star in the sky, close my eyes, and try to will myself there," she pauses for a moment to sit in the grass. "Do you think there are other worlds out there, Solas?"  
  
"I think not believing in the possibility would be, to some degree, foolish."  
  
"Hmm I knew you would say that,” she tilts her head downward and grins.

He moves to stand next to her, “I’m becoming predictable?”  
  
“Now I wouldn’t say _that_ , exactly. I’m sure you still have plenty of surprising qualities, but finding people foolish is not one of them.” He chuckles at her jab. “Do you think they could be better than this one? Other worlds, that is." Her voice grows quiet at the end, as if she’s said something foolish.  
  
"Are you feeling alright?" He sits beside her, and as he does she bumps her shoulder into his playfully.  
  
"I'm okay. It's something I used to think about when I was little. I suppose it’s been on my mind lately." Her knees are bent and she wraps her arms around them, adjusting her robes as she shuffles. "Do you know any constellations?" Her tone is sweetly renewed. He noticed this trend with Arienne, and it made him wonder if she ever had anyone to truly confide in. He cursed himself for wanting to be that. This was all temporary, and he should remember those boundaries.  
  
"I know many. Would you like me to point some out for you?"  
  
"I would love that, _Solas_." She scoots and closes what little space remained between them, tilting her head to rest just below his shoulder. He hopes that he's mapping out the night sky as he speaks but his mind is too focused on the way she says his name and the frequency of it as of late. _‘Solas… What does that mean?’_  She had asked back when Haven still stood. _Pride,_ he hesitated, and she laughed. _‘Quite fitting, don’t you think?’_ Then Varric and Cassandra joined in her laughter. Begrudgingly he hummed as their horses wound around the narrow path; it was true, and he knew it. She had a way of calling him out without being cruel, and he grew to appreciate her kind and honest nature more and more with each day.

Solas is aware he’s been speaking for a while, but time is different for him so he’s not quite sure just how long it’s been. What he does know is that he can feel her pulse and the steadiness of it is insinuating she has fallen asleep. Cautiously he shifts to look down at her; she was always fairly composed, at least publicly, but this was the first time he had seen her look truly peaceful.

He thought about when she had been found in the snow after Haven's destruction. They were certain she perished in the landslide, yet she surprised them again. He followed closely behind Cassandra and the three advisors as all rushed to Arienne's collapsed form. He made a habit of that; always being present, but to the side. Always watching and taking in all that they were.  
  
Arienne was drenched. Body trembling, again so close to death. And as the Commander carried her down the slope to their camp, he watched from beside as her eyes struggled to open. The moment they did, they began searching. _‘Solas?’_ Her voice small and frail. Cullen halted and gently placed her in his arms, _‘I need to check on the recruits, take her please.’_ Delirious and fatigued a weak hand reached up and cupped his cheek, _‘Do I have the mark to thank for this?’_ He couldn’t be sure if it was her own natural strength that allowed her to prevail, or if the mark had indeed increased her resilience.

She shuffles and it brings him back to the present. “It’s cold,” she whispers and his instinct takes over. An arm surrounds her, chin resting on the top of her head as she snuggles up against him; wrapping her arms around his waist. She smells like the earth; heady and warm with a hint of honey and sweetness. “I’m glad you’re here with me. I don’t know how I could do this if I didn’t have you by my side.” His stomach tightens. He was precisely the reason this all was happening to her in the first place. She saw him as a companion, someone to trust. When in reality it was all his fault. _He_ did this to her, even if it was inadvertently.  


He doesn’t respond, because perhaps she’s still deep enough in a hazy state to not be certain that she’s said those things or not. Then he feels her fingers tracing idle shapes down his side, the faintest summon of a fire spell to heat her touch. He wishes it didn’t feel as good as it does. But he doesn’t resist, and instead tightens his hold around her. “Perhaps we should head back to camp. I’m sure Bull and Dorian are wondering what’s taking us.”  


“I’m sure Bull and Dorian have other things on their mind.”  
  
He cringes at the thought, but she’s not wrong either. Her hand moves to pull at the neckline of his tunic, insisting he look at her. He does. And instantly regrets it. Deep red pouty lips, eyes green as the forest surrounding them, loose dark tresses framing her face and shoulders, exposed neck. She looks like a painting. “Solas. Are we ever going to talk about… _This_?” He knew it would be said eventually, but he hadn’t planned for this. Unprepared didn’t even begin to cover his racing thoughts that searched for a response which would to say, _‘I care, but I can’t,’_ without actually saying _that_ because she deserved far more than it.

“You don’t have to address something for it to be there.” It’s a bit of a cold response, but she smiles anyway, lightly pressing her face into his chest. 

He hopes she’ll just leave it at that. But she doesn’t. And her hand moves to cup his cheek as she leans up; lips hovering just before his. “We don’t have to _talk_ about it,” then she does _it._ Her lips were a delicate caress across his own; tender and sweet. He made no effort to stop his right hand which now held her nape firm because whether he admitted it or not, he didn’t want her to stop. His left hand gripping her waist to pull her flush with his form; she could never be close enough. His mind is a scattered mess and he struggles knowing that this is so undeniably wrong of him. _There’s still time to stop this_ , he thinks. 

Her fingers dance along his jawline, then her hand glides down to rest on his chest. Her mouth leaves his, and the crisp air hitting his dampened lips only serves to reinforce his disappointment. _Will it feel like this in the end_ , he wonders. _No,_ he realizes _._ Because then it will be permanent instead of temporary. He can feel her breath against his neck, and the way her cheek moves against his shoulder… _She’s smiling._ “Can we just stay like this for a while longer?” She questions softly.

He relaxes. Tilts his head to rest on hers. He would stay like this forever, if it were possible. But he doesn’t say it. And he doesn’t need to. She already knows.  
  



	4. Glass Arrows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A brief moment the two share while out in the Hissing Wastes.  
> This is quite short, and really just meant to be a bridge to explain Arienne's whole 'hiding her smile' habit. I'm uploading it mainly cause I've had a couple 'are you alive and finishing this' emails. Yes, I am alive, and I will finish it. ^_^

_[ Memories will find you in the last place you would think to look._  
_Maybe they’ll just pass by you, or rip right through your heart.  
_ _Underneath the surface, we break apart. ]_

 

She's mindlessly tracing shapes into the sand with the tip of her right foot; one hand holding a staff while the other covers stifled laughter. He _had_ to ask, couldn’t continue to not know why she always did that. 

" _Hmm_?" She questions at his inquiry.

"I was only curious as to why you so often hid your smile. Seems a shame to let something so beautiful go to waste." He was complimenting her more freely as of late, and while he enjoyed the reaction he received for it, he'd still curse himself after. 

"Oh! _That._ So you've noticed, then?" She looks back at Varric who's, albeit begrudgingly, assisting Cassandra mend a tear in her breeches that she cannot reach.

They'd been in the Hissing Wastes for a few weeks now; Arienne seemed engulfed by the deserts many mysteries. Not that it was a bad thing, because he too found the area and its secrets quite intriguing. Plus the plentiful bands of Red Templars kept the group busy, too much so for them to succumb entirely to the rich history that surrounded them. 

She scoops a dark lock of hair behind an ear, contemplating as loose fingers rest against her lips. "I had this recurring dream while I was in the Circle." Again she looks back at their companions who are still bickering over how to properly secure the damaged material. Faintly she smiles before motioning to take few steps forward, and he follows. "In the dream I'm happy," she starts. “Which wasn’t something I felt often after I joined the Circle. For obvious reasons, I suppose. In the dream I'm laughing and smiling and surrounded by loving friends and family, though I can't make out any of their faces. I feel like I have all the love in the world. Comfortable and safe. But then I hear this voice. I don't really know how to describe it other than it was _wrong._ It sounded like darkness would sound. Cold and selfish. Lonely but too prideful to ever admit it. It spoke to me, right against my ear. Like it was in my head. _'That smile is pretty enough to take_. _'_ I was paralyzed with fear, and worse was I couldn't stop smiling. My cheeks ached as my expression froze; it felt _real,_ as real as you and me right now _._ ” She stops for a moment and glances side to side. "For years I had that dream. Too many times to count. Then my Harrowing..." She pauses, holding her stomach as it rumbles, and he chuckles unintentionally. 

"Should we return to camp for food? It's okay if you don't want to say the rest, or if you’d prefer to speak of it later.”

Arienne faintly nods as a morose look washes over her. Then she shakes her head and turns to him. "It's okay. I want to tell someone. I want to tell _you_. Now while I have the courage.” She swallows hard, extends her pinky out to hook with his as they stand, and he smiles. It wasn’t the first time she had done that since their kiss in the Emerald Graves. He wished he didn’t find it so endearing and sweet. "When I was in the Fade a small boy approached me. I was a little nervous because it had been ingrained in me to be weary of all things in the Fade, and I didn't want to... _fail_ my Harrowing. I wanted to prove I was strong, even if I was quiet and small. At first I couldn't see his face; it was just a blur. But I felt as if I knew him. He said he wanted to show me something. The longer I followed him the more I’d recognize his features, until finally I saw him entirely. It was my younger brother who died when he was about seven; a sickness took him not long after I left for the Circle. One of my biggest regrets is not saying goodbye to him, not being there for him in his final moments. I dropped to my knees, collected him in my arms, and I cried. Then out of nowhere I started laughing, I guess because I felt _so happy_ to have him again. Live and whole, not frail in some bed as life slowly leaves him while he lays there not understanding _why_. He held me too, and laughed, then coldly whispered into my ear, _'that smile is pretty enough to take.'_ And I jumped back to see him twist into a demon, still laughing as I stood shocked." 

“It was a demon attempting to breach this world through you. I am sorry it used your brother to trick you. Your resolve is strong, it knew that and was likely desperate.” He’s watching her features drop as she recalls the memory, and all he wants to do is take her in his arms. But he knows he can’t, not here. _Not ever,_ he thinks, but he knows that’s increasing in difficulty with each moment he spends with her. It pained him to know that she tried to hide her joy because she felt as if she didn't deserve it, when that was so far from the truth. If only one life warranted happiness, it was hers. Selflessly she put others before herself, effortlessly loved everyone from all walks of life, consistently stayed open minded, and always saw violence as a last resort. She was the gentlest, kindest, and strongest being he had ever encountered, and he wished immensely she saw the worth in herself the way he had come to.

“For a while after it happened I was convinced my brothers spirit was angry with me for living when he could not. Often I wished that I was able trade my life for his. I still do, at times. Why should I get to live when life was so abruptly taken from him? What makes me so special or deserving? Every time I see something he never got to experience…” she unhooks her finger from his, but before her hand can get too far away he's laced his fingers with hers. Arienne smiles weakly and her grip tightens. “I try not to think that way. I try to not be so negative. I want to make him proud.” He thought about the young boy in Val Royeaux that had been separated from his parents. Tears in his eyes as he whimpered; lost and frightened. They were just about to leave for their next destination after stocking up on some supplies when she spotted him. He must have been around seven or eight. She took the child's hand in hers, wiped his tears away, and made sure to see him safe with his family before they left. He thought he saw her eyes begin to water as they reunited and embraced, though he never questioned why. But after knowing all of this, Solas wondered if she saw her brother in him. 

“I do not think your brothers spirit was angry with you, nor do I think it was him trying to possess you. A demon saw your one weakness and exploited that for it’s own gain. I cannot speak for him, but I doubt your brother would hold anything other than immense pride for what you have accomplished and continue to achieve.” Solas turns to her and eyes the loose strands of ebony hair blowing in the wind before cupping them behind her ear. Her cheek leans into his touch, eyes closed as she relaxes against him.

“Have you ever felt that way before, Solas? As if you couldn’t have been a bigger disappointment to someone who means the world to you…?” She looks off into the distance past him.

He’s quiet for a while. _Have I ever disappointed someone,_ he thinks. _I let down the entirety of my people, there is not a word powerful enough to encompass that._ But he can’t say that, of course. She reaches up and cups her hand over his that still rested against her cheek. _I’ll disappoint you, as well, and I am not sure which of the two is worse. “_ Of course. To err is part of nature.” Arienne smiles, almost bittersweetly, then turns her head to place a tender kiss into his palm. 

“You’re right. I think it would do most of us well to let go of some of our mistakes we’ve held on to so tightly.” She turns, and reaches back to take his pinky finger with hers again, “Let’s head back to camp. Some food wouldn’t be a bad idea, either.”

He frowns behind her, knowing she is right for more reasons than she realizes. Letting go was never something he did easily, and he wondered as they walked together how painful it would be to let her go when the time inevitably came. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took so long and it's so short (much like the whole fic has been, actually.) But I have a 40hr week internship plus I work an additional 20hrs a week at my job to be able to pay my bills. I was working on the next chapter alongside this one, and I hope to have to posted soon(ish)(like maybe a couple weeks). 
> 
> The next chapter will be Halamshiral, and it will be lengthy (IT GON BE GOOD)(I hope).


	5. I've Got This Friend

_[ I've got this friend, I don't think you know him._  
_He's not much for words, he's hidden his heart away._  
_A loveless romantic, all that he really wants is someone to want him back._  
  
_I've got this friend, I don't think you know her._  
_She sings a simple song, it sounds a lot like his._  
_Holding onto her heart like it's a little secret, like it's all she's got to give . ]_

 

  
Returning from a late night stroll, he sees Arienne standing in the rotunda; a thin floor length white nightgown bundled a bit in her left hand to keep it from dragging and getting dirty. Her right hand is over her heart as she looks at the canvas before her. It doesn’t seem like she’s aware that he’s standing behind her or she would have addressed him already. He leans his weight into the wall as he thinks of Halamshiral. They’d only returned this morning, and the excitement from the event could still be felt in the air by all who attended. 

  

> He thought about the way her hair curled, half pinned up, half loose. How she laughed and moved with such grace through the ballroom. How nobles touched her, which sent sparks of jealousy coursing through him, They’d whisper in Arienne’s ear attempting to sway her in their favor for future allegiances. It made his hands ball into fists, knuckles whiten, then he would remind himself that he did not own her and take another drink from his glass. He remembered how she smiled at him from across the room the second their eyes met. Her soft hands took his, _‘Even though you’re wearing that silly hat, I’d still be seen dancing with you,’_ she teased, clearly warmed by the wine. He looked down to her rose tinted lips, swollen by the occasional nervous bite, and watched as they pouted when he turned her down. He wished this was the most he would ever disappoint her. But wishes meant little. 

She sighs and his thoughts are cut short as he comes back to the present. _Now what is she looking at so intently,_ he thinks to himself. He takes a careful step to her and then he sees; a mural on a canvas he started shortly after the Emerald Graves. _She looked like a painting_ , he remembered thinking. Part of him was embarrassed she discovered it, though he would never admit it. _It's not finished_ , he thinks, and hopes she doesn't judge it too harshly.

"When did you do this?” She questions lowly. _Oh. Does she know how long I have been standing here?_ He questions himself. Arienne’s voice is quiet, and she doesn’t look back at him as she speaks; absorbed by the immortalization.

"After..." He trails off momentarily, remembering the way her lips felt against his that warm evening in the forest. "The Emerald Graves,” he finishes. They had kissed since then, little things when no one was watching. Quick ‘goodnight’s before she scurried off to bed, tender and brief moments while camped on their journeys when other eyes gazed elsewhere; but the Emerald Graves was the first and it was different. He may not say it openly, but he never wanted it to be forgotten. That night would stay with him forever. He knew even when all other things were gone, when this world passed and a new one born; the memory of her would always remain. 

Mindlessly Arienne reaches back with her free hand, searching for his. He steps forward, lacing his fingers with hers, and they both smile in equal measure. "It's so lovely, Solas. Do I really look like that?" She turns her head to him. _She likes it_ , he realizes, and feels relieved.

"I doubt my limited skills could ever do you justice, Arienne." 

" _Sweet talker_ ," she mutters with flushed cheeks. 

There were so many things he wanted to tell her. That she was his first and final thought each day. Not because of the mark. Not because she was the Inquisitor. Not because she was their only hope in defeating Corypheus. But because of everything that she was despite those things. Despite being human. He had tried so many times to convince himself that she was just like the rest, that she was no different or better and just as selfish and wrong but _no._ He was wrong. About her, at least. It made all of this so much more conflicting. It made the inevitable more challenging than he could have ever anticipated. 

“I am glad you like it. Though I do want to add it is not yet complete. I was hoping to have some time tonight to finish it,” he explains.

“You’re not tired? Do you ever _really_ sleep, Fade Walker?” She hums playfully.

“I do on the rare occasion,” he jokes and it earns a small laugh.

“As much as I want to see this finished I’d—“ her voice is shaky, trembling with nerves, but she continues after a moment, “I want you to come with me.”

He knows where she means when her hold on him tightens. She’s had a little to drink since returning. Her judgement is clouded. But if she says _it_ …  
  
“Where?” He asks prematurely. So many times in her presence his mouth spoke before he could stop it, before he could think things through. He shouldn’t encourage this. Maybe it was the wine he had as well, just before his evening stroll. Maybe it was the lighting. Maybe it was the sheer nightgown that hugged her small, curvy frame so closely. Maybe it was the way her lips curled when she answered, ‘ _Upstairs._ ’ Regardless of what was to blame, he followed when she lead him away.

It was a short walk, and soon they stood in her dim moonlit bed chamber. Arienne places the candle on her desk, then turns her backside to lean against the wood. “So,” she starts, then pauses as her arms cross. “I… I didn’t think this far ahead,” she chuckles nervously and again he remembers Halamshiral in the silence that follows.

 

> She moved at the pace of ocean waves; hesitantly, then all at once. Her head tilted to the side, eyes to the floor while strolling toward him with shoulders raised and hands cupped behind her back. “Interesting night, wouldn’t you say?” She smiled shyly while straightening her posture. Chest forward, eyes gradually looking up to lock with his; it’s a simple act that always steals his breath and weakens his knees. It makes him feel young and foolish. 
> 
> “I—I could not agree more,” he stuttered while clearing his throat. Arienne nods, brushing downward on her gown to be rid of a tiny wrinkle. The action draws attention to her attire without directly asking for it, and he’d been trying all night to look anywhere _except_ the beauty before him. But there in that light, bathed by the moon her fair skin glowing, green eyes piercing; he couldn’t possibly look at anything else.
> 
> A soft piece, mostly string instruments, can be heard in the ballroom behind them and he notices that she’s subtly swaying to it’s tempo. “So, _Solas_. How about that dance, _hmm_?” Her eyes narrow and eagerly awaiting his response. His hand moved; index and thumb holding her chin gently. He does it without thinking, without paying mind to the several sets of eyes watching them discreetly. All perhaps as eager as Arienne. All warm and gossipy from their drinks as they giggled and itched for exactly _this_ to happen. 
> 
> “ _Inquisitor,_ I thought we discussed earlier that it would not be wise to let the court see you, a human, with her _elven servant_ in such a manner? It would cause more disapproval than you being a mage, _Arienne_.” He whispers her name then wets his lips unintentionally. Her perfect posture falters faintly. 
> 
> “I do recall you saying _that_. Was I not pulled away by Josephine I would have been able to respond; _what makes you think I care in the least what the court thinks of me_? Besides, it’s all irrelevant now.” She smiles and averts her eyes briefly. “Don’t you think it would be a shame to let such a beautiful night… and dress…” she pauses, and he looks down. A delicate and flowing gown; a gradient of soft green and pine, embellished at her breast but not overly so. It looked like it was designed for her alone, and the garment demanded appreciation.
> 
> In his silence she reaches up and moves his hand down, wrapping that arm around her waist. “Dance with me, please. It would make all this madness more than worth it.” Her left hand is loosely at his nape, fingertips brushing the flesh there sweetly. 
> 
> He smiles despite himself, but knows this can’t happen. _Especially_ not here. Their friends gawking in the distance is one thing, Orlesian nobles is another. He leans down to softly speak against her ear, “Perhaps another time. I am sorry.” 

Solas shakes his head just shy of violently. He’s thinking too much, he tells himself, _stay in the present, you fool._ “We don’t have the band, Arienne, but I think we could still dance without it. If you’d have me,” he offers.

Her head snaps up and it might be the biggest smile he’s ever seen her openly express. “Yes. Please,” she whispers like she’s out of breath.

He takes her left hand in his, encircling her waist intimately as she lays her other hand on the nape of his neck. Arienne sighs and rests her forehead against his chest as they move slowly. She hums against him; it’s not a song he knows, but he commits the melody to memory. “Thank you, I need this.” She speaks into the crook of his neck. “I feel like you do, too.”

It sends a jolt through him and suddenly his chest aches. He needed this every day. She and him. _Always_. But that was an impossibility. Still, they had now, and surely it wouldn’t be too selfish to have this time with her while it remained. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, mumbling, “More than you can imagine.” 

Light from the candle is dying as time passes, flickering with it’s last bit of life as they continue their movement. She’s still humming lowly, now tracing shapes onto his back and it’s enough to put him to sleep. He hadn’t felt this comfortable around someone in… perhaps ever. At least not outside of the Fade. He closes his eyes and lets the moment take him entirely without resistance. Just this once. _It couldn’t hurt_ , he repeats to himself. 

Eyes open to darkness, and he stops. “Oh! The candle died out!” Arienne exclaims. She moves to step away and relight it, but he holds her tightly against him. “Solas—“ he cuts her off, mouth slanting over hers as he pulls her closer. Arienne is limp in his arms for a moment before moving against him. Back arching inward followed by the soft whimper of a moan across his dampened lips between kisses.  
  
Gentle hands reach up to cup his jaw, and as the mark pulsed against his cheek it felt like everything he had ever known and held dear manifested into a single touch. It felt familiar and warm. It felt like home; a thing so far in the past he wasn't certain he'd ever find it again. Like this was exactly where he belonged. As if everything he had been searching for all these years resided in the touch of a young human who knew too little and loved too much.

“I do not know if this is wise, Arienne.” He manages to speak. Her lips curl into a smile over his.  
  
“I think this might be the wisest thing we have ever done,” and her tongue parts his lips.  
  
He lets out a low groan into their kiss before lifting and pressing her against the wall; Arienne’s legs hooked around his waist snuggly. A small squeal escaped as her back hits the surface, but a pleased grin followed. She pulls at his collar until his lips return to hers. She is warmth and acceptance and understanding. She is everything he needs. _Something this good cannot possibly be wrong._

The thin night gown had risen to her thighs, bunched up in their entanglement, and he could feel heat pressing against him. He pulls back from their kiss abruptly, eliciting a mew of disapproval from the hazy eyed beauty. She struggles to read his expression in the darkness for just a moment before trailing a light finger from the tip of his ear to the lobe, then down his jawline. The starlit sky casting just enough light across her face for him to see her. Loosely she holds his chin between her thumb and index finger while looking at him, too nervous to say _it_. But he knew what that look meant, and it took the breath from his lungs. Made him feel hallow and selfish.

He always knew what she was thinking. Every time her hand lingered; when she would extend a finger to lock with one of his as they trailed behind the others. When she touched him, when she refrained from touching him. When she said his name joyously or muttered it worriedly. Because of how much she blushed when he spoke hers. He felt it every time she smiled at him, and each moment their eyes met because she _truly_ looked at him. He could swear at times she knew the truth, all of it; everything he worked so diligently to keep hidden away. All of the pain. All of his fears. Each regret. _Everything._

But she bites her bottom lip to refrain from saying it, and instead presses a palm against the wall, pushing them away from it. His body is tense and throbbing and aching for her, he can’t stop now. So he turns and heads for the bed, knowing exactly where it resides without looking. Skyhold was once his, after all. And he remembered its details intimately, the same way he would memorize hers. Gently he lays her on the bed, deep royal blue quilt a contrast beneath her fair skin and fairer clothing. She's smiling like she's won something. Slowly his hand drawls up her thigh, pushing the silk up until it meets her core. She blushes, covering her mouth, and the sight makes him weak. 

Arienne leans up and her lips lock with his hungrily. But she’s shaking in his embrace, he can feel it under his weight. Even more when their clothes left their bodies and their skin caressed the others. He wondered if he had ever felt something so soft before. He made a map of her body in his mind, noting each freckle, blemish, and curve. Committing to memory the way she tasted and how she sounded while trying to muffle her moans. The tremble of her form as his tongue brought her over the edge. How she reached down for him after, bringing him back to her lips to kiss him sweetly.

He knew he shouldn't. He knew this would only make things harder when the inevitable happened. But the way her thighs clinched around his hips, how warm and inviting her skin felt against his, the way her nails dug desperately into his shoulders, insisting he kept going. Harder. Faster. ' _I need you so much closer_ ,' her body pleaded as it arched into his. He was faltering under the pleading of persistent hands. And if the softness of her lips gliding over his throat wasn't enough to send him past reasoning, the fragile moans and labored breaths that accompanied the action definitely were.

It wasn't until he was fully sheathed within her that she said  _it_. And he had to pause to make sure it was real and not his imagination. She smiled against his lips, holding his face both firmly and softly. "I love you," she whispered with no denying, and he crumbled. She was kindness and forgiveness and everything he had ever been denied, everything that had ever been ripped away.

His mind is chaos and he knows he says something in return but he’s not sure what. He had lived a long time and thought he had felt everything, but this was new. It would not make what would come next any easier.  


 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this took forever! 
> 
> I feel like I rushed at the end but I am just NOT good at the sexy stuff. But I wanted to make it clear that yes, they do sleep together. 
> 
> Feedback always appreciated!


	6. Thistle and Weeds

  
_"Plant your hope with good seeds._  
_Don't cover yourself with thistle and weeds._  
_Rain down, rain down on me."_

 

Josephine always did so well with retrieving the texts Solas had been searching for. He admired that quality the ambassador possessed quite immensely. But try as he might to focus on his research he found himself occupied. Morrigan had joined the Inquisition, and the lengths Arienne ventured to make her feel welcome he found too forward and unnecessary, then again she was often that way. To say he didn’t trust the shape shifter was a gross understatement. She had ulterior motives that would show only in time, and he knew she should be kept at arms length. _You have motives too,_ he chides himself internally.

“Our Lady Inquisitor wishes to see you in the garden,” a messenger called from behind. 

Solas nods without facing the young deliverer, hanging his head as the boy left.  

 

 

> _ He remembers soft, warm flesh next to his. Heat from the sun bathing their naked forms. Legs tangled with one another, her arm loosely around his waist, cheek pressed against his chest. He could feel her paced breathing. Content and secure. I love you, she had whispered the night before. _
> 
> _ She stirs, adjusting and humming; making the sweetest sounds he’s ever heard. Everything about her is gentle and loving, and he is undeserving of such genuine care and acceptance. He presses a kiss to the top of her head, holding her tightly with one arm while pulling a quilt over them with the other. He can feel her smiling, and then she looks up at him. He too, said something— _

Solas tilts his head and wills the memory away as he heads outside, worrying his lips together with each step. The light briefly blinds him, and then he sees her. He watched as she delicately pressed the tip of her nose to the freshly blooming flower in Skyhold's garden. _'What I missed most in the Circle was flowers, believe it or not.'_ She had told him that one night long ago when their journey was just beginning. _'It's amazing, don't you think? That something so small and seemingly insignificant can have such an impact on someone.'_ She continued as they walked the winding path behind Dennet's farm in the Hinterlands. _'I wish I could fill the darkest corners of the world with flowers. Perhaps it would make the dullest and dreariest places seem more inviting. Maybe people would smile a little more, too.'_

More than anything, Arienne loved people. When they were kind to her, and even more when they were not. She loved them even when they didn't love themselves. It was such a rare quality to find in a world like this. She saw past the flaws, the negatives, the pain, and always managed to uncover the brightest pieces of people. It stopped surprising him sometime back, but it still warmed his heart to think on. He felt himself changing because of it.

She notices him out of the corner of her eye and instantly lights up, standing upright, arms behind her back as their gaze meets. It's relatively peaceful this afternoon; the overcast not heavy enough to completely cover the suns rays. He approaches her.

" _How are you this evening, Arienne_?" He questions in a low velvety tone.

Her eyes close and she smiles; reveling in his voice. It seemed like she lost herself in it often. "I'm doing better now than I was a few moments ago." Her cheeks flush. He still makes her nervous. Still makes her blush.

This is their first private conversation since their night together, a couple past, and his hands fidget unknowingly. "Walk with me?" He asks, brows furrowed as he marvels at her innocence.

She nods eagerly and hooks her arm with his. Prior to the other night an action so open and forward would have made him uneasy, but he was enjoying this new found comfort with Arienne. He felt anything but tense in her presence this moment. He slipped into the security of her touch, briefly forgetting it could only be temporary.

Slowly they pace through Skyhold, at first quiet, simply enjoying each other's company in a moment of peace before the next battle or adventure. It's not until they're by the stables that she speaks.

"We're to head for the Arbor Wilds with Morrigan soon. Will you come with me?" She always asked. Each time before heading out on a mission, she always asked. In this sweet, low and soft tone. Head the slightest tilt to the side, her eyes staring off as if she was worried he may say no. As if he could ever say no.

"Of course," he bowed his head, and realized as it hung that this time she had said ' _me_ ,' not ‘ _us_.' It was a small detail most wouldn’t notice.

 

 

> _"We're going to the Hinterlands to meet Mother Giselle. Do you mind joining us?"_  
>  _"I could not in good conscience let the three of you go without me. You will need strong_ _barriers."  
>  _ _She clasps her hands together and smiles in thanks, then hurriedly walks to her home in_ _Haven.  
>  _ _  
> "Not long before we'll be leaving for the Storm Coast. I'm curious to meet this 'Bull' and his_ _Chargers. Would you be interested in coming with us?"  
>  _ _"I cannot say I look forward to the rain, but it does sound like an interesting venture. I will_ _come."  
>  _ _She laughs slightly, covering her mouth, and nods in agreement._  
>    
>  _"We're to meet with Fiona and the mages soon.. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a little nervous._ _Something doesn't seem right. Can I ask you to join us?"  
>  _ _"I agree. The way the Templar acted, and Fiona's tone. Something is indeed amiss. And if_ _there is magic involved I believe I would serve well should things were go poorly."  
>  _ _Her face is solemn, clearly concerned with the task at hand. But she smiles faintly before_ _quietly mouthing 'thank you.'_
> 
> _He remembered how after the trouble with Alexius, Arienne's attitude toward him severely_ _changed. She stuck closer to him than she had before. Glanced at him in battles often,_ _sometimes frantically as if she was scared he had been injured or fallen.. His barrier never_ _fell. She protected him before she did herself, and she checked his wounds before the_ _others. Their party took notice of it almost immediately. She would always laugh_ _off the comments with flushed cheeks. Then she'd look at him while the others chuckled and_ _poked fun, a soft smile with a hint of pain. She would not tell him what happened. He asked_ _once, and was met with silence. Twice, and got a swift nod 'no' in response._
> 
> _In a moment of desperation and a few too many glasses of wine he questioned Dorian one_ _night in the library. ‘There's something she will not tell me. I should accept she doesn't wish_ _to. But---'_
> 
> _'Oh the intrigue that surrounds it. Too much for even you to resist,' the Tevinter sneered_ _between sips of his wine. Solas rolled his eyes and stood to head for the_ _stairs, but then heard the mustached man mutter, ’You died.' His head turns enough to see the_ _mage out of the corner of his eye. 'Well, most everyone died. But she saw you specifically.'_

 

"I've lost you again, haven't I?" Arienne hums as she cups his jaw. Her smile is a more pleasant thought anyway. Realizing that she was feeling more intimate with him, more personal and direct--- it felt good. Like easing into a warm and sweetly scented bath. Like every tense muscle in your body slowly relaxing in unison. Like waking in the early morning with nothing to do but remain wrapped up with the one you lo--.

He loved her. That’s what he had told the morning after their night together. Her head cocks and she caresses his cheek softly, weakly smiling after letting out a defeated sigh. “You have been acting strange the past couple of days. Well. Stranger than your usual self,” she laughs at her own jab, and he has to force himself not to smile. “I was worried that maybe I had done something wrong? But, I hadn’t a moment to ask you before now.”

“My apologies. The weight of the world on your shoulders can at times be heavy and defeating.” He cups her hand in his over his cheek. The lack of lurking eyes helped his boldness.

“What you said that morning… What does it mean?” Her other hand has moved to this thigh, gripping lightly, just enough to make its presence known. He studies her eyes— she knows what it means. But she wants him to say it in a language she understands. 

He leans closer, lips a breath away from her cheek. He stays there a moment, quick battle in his mind of _‘should I stay or should I go,’_ before he ultimately comes to a decision. He kisses her cheek and it tightens with her smile. He moves to her ear, cupping her jaw with his free hand now, too. _“Ar lath, ma vhenan.”_ She shutters as the last word leaves his lips. She turns her head enough to meet his eyes.

“Solas, I—” but he kisses her gently before she can finish. She needs him to say it, and he will.

_  
“…I love you, my heart.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been so busy with my new job and all these new games coming out! I have the last couple chapters already written it's just getting to that part that's challenging! So here's a little mush. Unfortunately the heartbreak is soon, as is to be expected in any Solas romance, hah ;]


	7. Alpha Shallows

"His heart was full of fire at the man he had become.  
And his soul was seldom higher than with the falsities of fun.  
He could embrace sweet desire in moments as they pass.  
But he feared it ever more, when he saw it didn't last."

 

He felt badly for raising his voice, scolding her like a child. He shouldn’t speak to her in that manner. She hadn't lived a life as long as his but that by no means made her an adolescent; she was a grown woman, albeit young. Still, she had no comprehension of what had been done; what was at stake and the potential risks. What troubled him most was that he couldn't even tell her, because there was only so much he could pass off to be knowledge gained by dreams in the Fade. As his thoughts and guilt spiraled, he realized; _'it doesn't even matter that she does not know.'_

If he succeeded with his plans Arienne would not be around to… his heart ached; it sank in his chest to a crevice so deep it could not be dug out. A world where she did not exist... how dark it would be without her soul to light it. There were days as of late where he could not even remember what his life was like before she entered it. He leans up in his tent to watch the flickering flame of the camp fire a few feet outside, his fingers laced together and pressed to his mouth in thought as he recalls their conversation earlier.

 

>   
>  "I've upset you? I'm sorry, Solas. But I did not know what else to do." Her head hangs in shame. "And it didn't seem right to allow Morrigan to drink from the Well. I appreciate her knowledge but something just... it didn't sit right with me."  
>    
>  "I--- Nevertheless. What will you do with the power of the Well once Corypheus is dead?" He questioned sternly, approaching her almost aggressively.   
>    
>  "The war proved that we can't go back to the way things were. I want to help this world move forward." There is a youthful tone in her voice toward the end; an upward infliction of hope.    
>    
>  "So you would risk everything you have in the hope that the future is better?" His voice blackens, lips tightening over the following words. "What if it isn't? What if you wake up to find the future you shaped is worse than what was?"  
>    
>  "Then... Then I would try again. A thousand times over. Until it's better or until I'm no longer living." Her fists clinched in determination.   

  
He wondered what she would do were she in his position, if she had done and seen all the things he had. All the souls gone by his doing, his ignorance and arrogance combined. Having to watch as the world around you crumbles, and knowing its because of you... Arienne claimed intention is what's most important, but good thoughts never saved anyone and they certainly couldn't save him. He had to fix his mistake. Losing her... losing this world... it was a price he had to pay. This was his lesson; his punishment. He did not deserve happiness when he had stripped it from so many. A farmer cares not if you steal his wood to keep warm; his family freezes regardless.

A shadow walks up to the tent and he sits at attention. Slowly the flap of cloth peels back, and in peers Arienne tired eyed and muffling a yawn. “Mmmm,” she hums as she enters. Without hesitation she pulls up the covers around him and sinks underneath of them, nuzzling against his chest. “I was hoping you were awake.”

“I woke not long after you left,” he answers before wrapping his arms around her and laying back.

“And I tried so hard to be quiet, too,” remorse in her tone. “I did not mean to wake you.” Softly she kisses the crook of his neck, down to his collar, and pauses a moment before pressing a kiss to his chest all while holding his waist firmly. He closes his eyes as the sensation of her lips on his flesh takes over him; this is what forever could feel like.

  
***  


In the blink of an eye he was in another world. It was seamless like always, the transition into the Fade. Things felt different there. It could best be described as weightless, as if the energy surrounding you helped to carry your body with each step. It made things effortless. Like being submerged; this floating sensation, heavy yet empty, and it could take you anywhere.

At first his environment was simple. A vast plain as far as his eyes could see, clear sky with a light breeze. It felt like Arienne's soft breath as she blew to remove the eyelash from his cheek. Now he's laughing as he remembers her huffing in frustration when the small hair refused to be moved. A blink and now things are different. The ground has shifted to form a new landscape; hills and valleys and long winding streams curving between. The occasional patch of blooming flowers dusting here and there to add character. Arienne wanted to fill the world with flowers, she had said once. He chuckles remembering a time she held a flower too close to her nose and it left a small patch of pollen that went unnoticed until later in the evening. He was not yet comfortable enough with her to point it out.

A sharp inhale and things have changed again; now a towering forest that would make any who walked through feel small and insignificant. He remembers their first kiss in the Emerald Graves. The morning after when a glance toward him did not go without blushed cheeks and raised brows from their companions. He too, blushed with every look her way, clearing his throat while his thoughts stayed blurry with both glee and confusion. He bites his bottom lip and closes his eyes for a moment, and when they open he sees woodland creatures. Fennec foxes scurrying the forest playing, rams grazing, wild nugs burrowing and hiding. He can feel Arienne's pinky finger curled around his; she's laughing, _'nugs are the ugliest and cutest things I've ever seen.'_ And now he's laughing. The smallest moments often carry the biggest weight. 

Then it strikes him cruelly, it felt like being pummeled. Things are suddenly quiet and the ground beneath his feet shakes like the quakes when the veil fell. His heart races and he tries to steady himself. Creatures around him begin to panic, unsure of what's to come. Trees are swaying, a loud crackle in the sky breaks the eerie silence. He had not heard a thunder so heavy since... no. Was he reliving it? The sky darkens and the winds rage, and now he's running _. How could you? You were supposed to help us. And now you have forgotten. We will make you remember, Solas._

The voice was in his head, sinister, and he truly felt fear. Now it is pouring and it's nearly impossible to see where he's running. But he has to get out. He's not safe here. The winds rage and branches brake; flying toward him with the intent to harm. The earth is shaking even more now, and it begins to separate beneath his feet as he flees. He has to dodge the lightening shaped crevices that spread as the voice stays at pace with him _. She cannot save you from the world you have wronged. The souls you doomed. You have a debt. You will pay it, Fen'Harel._

He trips and collapses, breathing heavily, drenched by the storm, fingers digging into the soft soil as his eyes close tightly. Trees are ripped and uprooted all around him, cries for help by the forest dwellers go silent. The rain and wind halts in unison, and he opens his eyes to darkness. It's cold now, he watches the small cloud that solidified when he exhaled, and rubs at his arms to keep warm. Slowly he stands, swallowing hard and observing the area. Nothing. He is truly alone _._ _Do not forget who you are, Dread Wolf._  


***  


"Solas! Please wake up!" Arienne is shaking him hard, eyes watering. He sits up abruptly, struggling to catch his breath. She's patting his back and trembling, worry taking over her face. Finally he breathes, and she relaxes. Quickly she embraces him, crying fully at this point. "I was so worried. Are you okay?"

"It... was a nightmare." Softly he pushes her back and collects himself.

"A bad memory?" She holds his hands. Her touch is warm and bittersweet. 

"I..." He can't. He can't think of the words. His chest heaves. He shakes his head.

"What? What is it?" Her hand caresses his cheek.

He pauses a few moments, studies the worried expression on her face, "you're so beautiful," he whispers barely audible. She smiles and he feels himself aching to touch her. How could he possibly end this without her feeling blame, without her... hurting. It was so obvious in every touch that she loved him beyond measure. It was going todestroy her regardless. He had to be quick. Before she could talk him out of it with her perfect pout and emerald eyes. Abruptly he speaks, "You should be focused on Corypheus, but I have distracted you." He tries to stand but she grabs him.

"Wait, what is that supposed to mean?" Her voice shakes and it feels like being punched in the stomach.

"I cannot do this anymore, Arienne. We cannot be together like this any longer." It takes all of his strength to keep his voice calm, but he is visibly distraught.

"Please stop. I don't understand what's happening right now. What did you dream about? Have I done something wrong? Is it The Well? Please don't go..." she lets him go and covers her face. " _Don’t go_ ," he can hear her mumble as he stands. "I love you." It feels like being gutted.  

"...I'm sorry," he forces himself to say as he exists her tent. Quickly he mounts his hart, urging it away from the camp. He turns and watches over his shoulder as their tent fades in the distance. It feels like losing everything. Again.    


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took almost a YEAR. I cannot believe it. So much has happened to me since I've updated. Break ups, new relationships, loss, therapy, and more. Life tends to get in the way sometimes, yeah?
> 
> I hope if there are any who have been waiting that this meets your expectations. It was a hard chapter to write for me. There is still more to come, I promise. I also promise it won't take nearly a year for the next chapter XD


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